


Dulcis in Fundo

by Puolukka



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, Family Dynamics, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puolukka/pseuds/Puolukka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A distressed English journalist deceived by society into collecting useful information and an idealistic unemployed American rewarded with a leisure holiday are going to bump into each other and go throughout a whirlwind of odd events and experiences that will bring them closer and possibly help them finding the missing piece in their life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dulcis in Fundo

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is divided in two sections. That's in order to portray in parallel the characters' circumstances until their actual encounter.
> 
> Be warned that in the upcoming chapters there will be several OCs, relevant to the continuation of the story.

_May 19th, Sunny with potential showers_  
  


It was unbelievable hot for an ordinary spring day in the normally raining London. Maybe the strong southern weather had clashed and scuffled with the usually cold winds that howled on the Island almost all year; settling and lingering above the country which, for once, could finally take a breath of that common flavour the spring emanated in its journey.  
  
In this sugary display, a very grouchy, edgy Englishman was tragically sporting a woolen coat, entirely soaked in his own sweat. There were many reasons for his irritable mood: first of all, this unpredictable warm phase which resulted in more troubles than profits. This swinging weather was putting a strain on his forbearance; twice this week his poor clothed condition had almost caused him a good hypothermia and that one time he put on his favourite suit – obviously a winter designed one – the sun decided to greet him with his overbearing hot embrace.  
  
Another irking motive was his sudden unaccountable, kind of, holiday he would join for the next three months. The operative word being 'kind of' since it wasn't a pleasure trip for families like those portrayed in full-page ads between the sport article on how Liverpool beat up his opponents and the twelve decisive ways to lose weight in less than a week. No, his travel wasn't a pleasure _by all means_. It was a punishment for all his grueling efforts in the cultural field he worked for.  
  
Partly the fault graved on him for subscribing to that damned arrangement, whilst the major part being the string of gibberish shenanigans from the new fellow department. Their chief, supported by his minions, had enrolled for a joint project with this sort of press agency/colonizers for better establish their hegemony over the whole Europe. A really vicious plan in which the Englishman seemed to unwillingly partake. Again, he only had ever minded his own business before being forced in this preposterous plan – never mind if those morons upstairs aimed to take over the world with buckets and spades for all that matter, but they must do it themselves because Arthur Kirkland had no penchant to be used for filthy purposes.  
  
Indeed, Arthur Kirkland, thirtyish bachelor dweller in a penthouse, was far beyond anguished with his shoddy life and its awful comebacks. He worked for an important national magazine and for several years now he had been commissioned for simple local articles; a fair wage for a fair job. However, when they asked him to sign up for the exchange project, he would have never expected to be draft.  
  
In the beginning he had dismissed it and cordially declined the offer, but his chief had been steely in his demands, compelling the corn blond Englishman to go through the ordeal because, apparently, he was the suitable candidate, chose deliberately for this purpose. Not even his objections of inadequacy and unworthiness to fit the job affected his doomed fate.  
  
Hence his current scornful mood, which seemed to deteriorate every running minute with his hope to be issued from this undeserved assignment.  
  
A week prior, during a one-day trip in the South, they discovered several ancient items while digging in a forlorn area nigh Sussex. Arthur had been assigned to gather information for a side article for the next release of the monthly.  
  
By the time he stepped in the uncrowded museum, being early in the morning it was seldom the building had guests - aside the employee community and several scattered wayfarers in need of a roof – compassionate glances escorted him to the reserved zone where the pity arrangement had reached its highest peak; Elizaveta Héderváry, one of his coworker, approached him as if a mourning had descended on his family, comforting Arthur with reassuring words that didn't work in the least.  
  
“Don't worry, Arthur. It's like a summer vacation, you'll be back in no time, dear!” she assured him with that happy-go-lucky attitude of those who actually weren't experiencing the awful situation of the one they were trying to cheer up.  
  
He sighed defeated. “Yes, I know it, Liz. Let's just get it over with this task and I'll be fine.”  
  
A screeching voice cut in the discussion, uninvited. “Geez, man. I really don't understand what's the problem here. You're practically getting a free holiday! I'd die to fucking spend the summer lazing my ass around in somewhere exotic!” the introducer was none other than the most obnoxious, deafening being of the entire universe: Gilbert Beilschmidt aka Elizaveta's boyfriend.  
  
“Beilschmidt, you are so tactless it's a wonder how you can still stroll along the way without being smacked by the first girl you happen to ogle.” said Elizaveta as Arthur's and her limbs enlaced in a steel grip. “By the way, you're going to be our guest of honor tonight, boy. We have to lighten up your sulky self one way or another.”  
  
The blond male gave in immediately, seeing as it was a futile attempt struggling when dealing with the fiery brunette: she would have won even before the argument had started. Underneath her charming appearance, a mighty attitude reposed, ready to burst out any time; her steel guise could be compared with Gilbert's massive ego. They made quite the frightening couple.  
  
At any rate, busy himself was the only acceptable distraction he was allowed to, right now.  
  
So, in the span time of five hours as people started cramming in and wandering around looking for something that would catch their eye, the small team featuring the blond male, the unpredictable Beilschmidt and an Estonian exchange student – the only one who knew what he was doing - surveyed those fragile objects, annotating and classifying all the required details, then stocked in a huge archive.  
  
As launch time drew in, they crowded in a secluded zone in order to rest and consume their meal before returning to their legitimate workstations. Then, after unnecessary chit-chats, study materials, quick tours and tea, Arthur tiredly wormed his way home; napping on the lounge for about an hour, feeding his robins and eventually getting dressed up for the frolicsome night.  
  
Before leaving the building, Elizaveta had bid her goodbyes while handing him a little paper with a fanciful-written address and advising him to be there around eight. Truthfully Arthur had been in said nightclub before. He had spent a good amount of quality time there with his university friends, although that was before graduating and shrugging off his former youngster years in order to make space to the new, peevish workaholic Kirkland.  
  
He did miss his previous form of enjoyment, though his current occupation granted him an honest position in the society – notwithstanding his nihilistic creed – and a good repayment for his endeavours. His preferences hadn't change a bit since his transformation, but to impose respect and dignity on his persona it came almost natural avoiding those types of solace.  
  
Now that the settlement was over, nothing could stand between Arthur Kirkland and his craved entertainment.  
  
As he stepped into the epileptic chaos of colorful lights, piercing and stroking the large, but constricting space and its inhabitants in a swimming flash. The Englishman stumbled forlorn in several individuals who either sneered at him or disregarded completely his meager proxemics basics. Pushing and shoving, he finally caught a glimpse of a familiar figure mindlessly sipping a glass of likely strong alcohol. Héderváry had always been a heavy drinker, sporadically she got wasted up and those few times involved an outright pissed off Gilbert and dirty tricks, which didn't affect the ongoing challenge altogether: the brunette would still win, no matter what.  
  
An hard push from some drunkard effectively started him as he clashed into one of the stool facing the counter. In that, Elizaveta eyed him with an amused smirk, signing him to join her for a tipple.  
  
“You made it! I was really worrying you got lost in the way or something. I almost forced Gil to go pick you up, but he just shrug it off saying he was nobody's 'daddy mobile'.” she giggled out, gulping down several concoctions of what seemed strong booze.  
  
Arthur mimicked her motion, wincing at the strong taste lingering on the base of his tongue. It had been really awhile since the last time he had gotten an overwhelming sensation like that. He didn't relish in the flavour, but it eased off the more he went on. It was like eating for the first time chili pepper, although those burning seeds were the real essence of the fruit. A good reminder to avoid drinking water after this sort of experience.  
  
“I deliberately came late.” came his short response. The Brit, in fact, had willingly stalled in order to settle his mind on the foreseeable events. When Gilbert and nightclubs were mixed together, nothing good would come out – nothing good would come out _for Arthur_ , at least.  
  
His fears were proved true when Elizaveta's look twisted in a pity frown; eyes sparkling with discomfort as she handed him a Moijto and muted slowly 'Watch out'. At that, a rough hand collided with his shoulder, making him trip off the stool. He hastily scrambled up, but the strong grip on his upper arm kept pulling him down.  
  
Arthur didn't even manage to mutter his discomfort as the massive body in front of him growled out something about feeling up and girlfriends while a very powerful punch met his tender tummy.  
  
Now, Gilbert Beilschmidt had the (in)famous reputation of pulling dirty jokes on acquaintances, friends and sometimes even family members. He took pleasure in setting up pranks during lively gatherings such as this one. In short, those kinds of instances happened all the time and causally, most of them, involved Arthur and several boorish ogres because Gilbert always ensured to pick up loggerheads, otherwise it was 'no fun'.  
  
In retrospect, the blond Englishman was quite accustomed to those scuffles. Therefore, he was rather the tough type when physical melee arouse as he oddly enough got always the first blow – even in the case he didn't instigate it or wasn't involved altogether.  
  
Elizaveta jerked up from his stance, getting in the boor's way while giving his back to Arthur's dazed persona and literally challenging with his fierce stare the chap. Her fighting pose, with arms akimbo to better daunt his opponent, gave off a threatening aura, scaring off most of the witnesses still watching the ongoing act and those who apparently had a taste of the brunette's true nature.  
  
“Not only you feel my girlfriend up, but you also use yours as a fucking shield to protect your dipshit ass!?” spat out vehemently the ogre as he inched forward to deliver a new fist.  
  
He really didn't expect the stunning wallop Elizaveta practically launched at him while hissing “I'm not a fucking sissy, fuckhead” as he wobbled backwards and ungracefully collapsed onto a furnished table. Gathering around the passed-away man, people came to his aid, checking for a heartbeat while dragging him away from the crime scene. Whereas, Arthur was forcefully hauled outside by none other than Elizaveta as she grumbled quietly to herself.  
  
“I'm really going to fucking choke that Gilbert bastard tonight, if I only happen to catch a glimpse of his sorry face, there will be no tomorrow for him, I swear.” she growled out in a sort of animal-like way while stomping in the chill breeze of the outstanding star-dotted night – well, those barely visible starts for the air pollution thoroughly spoilt the charming nocturnal landscape.  
  
Arthur took a deep intake of the fresh unconfined air in a way that resembled vaguely someone who got his first breathe after years spent stuck up in a restricted pit, which was exactly how the Brit felt. Giddiness seemed to wash his body as it took almost a full minute to work up the courage to get up from the coarse ground, wobbling slightly all the while.  
  
He sighed. “You didn't have to, really. I can take care of myself, Liz.”  
  
“I know. I just lost my temper when he insulted me personally for being female and weak. It was my duty to show him my opinion towards the argument in some way.”  
  
“I think he was really taken aback by your opinion.” a short string of guffaws accompanied his statement.  
  
She exhibited a cocky smirk. “You betcha.”  
  
At that, a very tipsy Beilschmidt made his appearance, swinging slightly in his trek as he heavily leaned against the thick wall of the building. “The heck woman! You totally spoiled the fun there! It was all ready to blow off fireworks tonight and you had to knock out the main character, seriously no fun at all.”  
  
Obviously the only possibly reply to that comment was a well-aimed blow at the guts which successfully shut him up as he bent forward while whimpering expletives. Satisfaction written all over Arthur's visage as the punch gave off the desired effect of simultaneously revenge the inflicted damage and enthrall himself – and apparently Elizaveta as well as she nodded approvingly while watching from the sidelines – with a painful version of Gilbert in his weakest state.  
  
As the aching man slipped gradually in the dirty ground, an upbeat ringing tone went off in the quiet night – notwithstanding the background noises from the nightclub. Apparently during all the commotion Arthur hadn't noticed the missing calls received from an unknown number. Despite his better judgement to dismiss a foreign call, he eventually slid the green icon as a joyful voice reverberated in his ear.  
  
“Arthur, man! Oh my god, I tried to contact you, like, ten thousand times in a night! You had better put your phone somewhere more visible or I don't know, if someone needs to talk about important stuff and you don't answer back, it would be a problem, you see.”  
  
The shrilling tone of the chief's henchman had the same effect of a dry shower on the tired Kirkland; the squeaky man kept spilling statement after statement unaware of the unresponsive Englishman which had disconnect the system in order to reason about his ill-fated wrongdoings while keeping up a nonplussed facade.  
  
“Okay- wait there, lad. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” he demanded quietly; Elizaveta was still within earshot nursing Gilbert and he didn't want to attract too much attention than he already did.  
  
The other huffed in annoyance, which really sounded like a buzzing noise through the device, though soon recovered his frolicsome attitude as he giggled out. “It's all settled! Your travel's all settled. In two weeks you'll totally bid goodbye to ol' England!”  
  
The noncommittal disguise shattered by the time the news left the speaker's gabbling mouth. The last thing he wanted to rattle about was his forthcoming travail which hitherto seemed to harass him relentlessly. His previous dizziness re-engulfed him as he swayed slightly due to a lightheaded onset, fortunately it didn't last long enough to pass out right away.  
  
“What?” he choked out.  
  
“You heard me, chap! You're gotta be ready in two weeks for your flight!” the other carried on unfazed for he couldn't actually know of the Englishman's dropping mood.  
  
Arthur, on the other hand, had started coming up with several potential excuses to literally resign for another department; this way he would ultimately cop out from the assignment and wore on with his dull, but practical doctrine of 'live and let live'.  
  
Nevertheless his brain was as blank as his stare, fluttering from the hard-surface to the flickering street light across him. His retorts were swallowed up before they managed to be voiced out as his tongue gulped dry saliva and he found himself gave up to his struggling for a lost cause.  
  
“Good. I'll packing up next week.” the words coerced out from his lips as he reluctantly came to terms with the acceptance of being another vessel of the company.  
  
A whooped 'Very good' let him know the battle was definitively over as he went to bid farewell, before remembering he didn't even know where he was going to spend his summer reclusion.  
  
He voiced as so. “One last thing, sir. Where's the place?”  
  
From the other's end came the cheerful response. “Rome!” 

* * *

 

 

_May 23rd, Partly cloudy_  
  


Angry shouts could be heard from a very American designed house as a portly, tall blond male hurled outside the porch and sprinted down the broadway. Actually, the man hadn't a real destination when first decided to leave home, but the need to accomplish something in a, oh so glorious day – despite the appalling clouds hurling and threatening for a heavy unscheduled shower – got him so hyper to forget about politeness and forewarning as he ditched his errands, leaving a very enraged brother making up for his thoughtlessness.  
  
For that Alfred F. Jones, unemployed and non-graduate in his late twenties, was what most people would call a reckless fool.  
  
Frist and foremost, he never did enrolled for college, hence his jobless position. Truthfully, he had tried to look for work in his little town, but the lack of degree and the ill-advised reputation hadn't help much his searching. Despite all the detriments, Alfred Jones was thoroughly cherished among the dwellers for his altruism and generosity towards any citizen, regardless gender, ethnicity, religion and even age.  
  
Though, this didn't churn out a well-paid job and his only way to keep the wolf from the door was helping out old farmers with their heavy tasks. Therefore, he had quite the well-endowed body any athlete would die for: tanned due to hours spent under the burning sunlight and burly for the aforementioned motivations; topped with spectacles which made him look wise and collected and gifted with a sparkling personality which drew in a rather large covey of admirers.  
  
Right now, he was working for an old family friend who offered him a great bargain for his assistance; at the crack of dawn the blond American was already up to work in the farm, with a short break for lunchtime around noon and again five more hours before dragging himself home wherein a quiet, apprehensive young brother would come to his aid while scolding him for his hell-bent behaviour.  
  
All in all it was a satisfactory toil for his sturdy physique and bold mind.  
  
As Jones strolled along the path he took in the quaint landscape of his town. It wasn't very huge like the state capital, neither so small to be classified a village; meadows and plantations filled most of the land as the most developed sector was the rural one with prevalence of corns and soy.  
  
Whilst he climbed over a low wooden fence with little to no effort a pompous voice called him from apparently nowhere.  
  
“Jones!”  
  
He turned around, then again forth and back. Still nothing. The unknown voice bellowed again his name and as Alfred stumbled upon several debris while roaming in the under construction area of the town wherein brand-new houses were being built. As he carried on his aimless path he found a very outstanding building, probably committed to some opulent moneybag, and on what seemed a very unstable scaffolding there was a massive muscled middle-aged man waving at him affably.  
  
“Alfred boy! There you are, I need ya help up here, if ya have nothing better to do anyway!” the man, Mr. Mitchell, crouched down from his high position in order to face Alfred without earning a stiff neck doing so.  
  
The other owlish stared at the burly male for a few minutes, then a wide grin crept over him as he chirped an affirmative response while sprinting over the house and up the steel structure.  
  
Both men teamed up to speed the working process since the owner had expressly demanded that the small estate must be full-finished before the end of the month. Rumors said the upcoming family had a wealthy pedigree dated back to the late 19th century. Their ancestor happened upon an ore mine during the gold rush, earning a genuine endowment after years of downfalls and assuring a well-off future for his offsprings.  
  
Regardless, the house needed only few final touches which did not include the domestic supplies, but a very fanciful and classy gazebo near the fountain as well as tendering the back garden in order to be presentable for the welcoming party threw in their honour. It succeeded in busying Alfred in those boring hours of the day otherwise spent chasing after wild animals in the nearby forest.  
  
He engaged, instead, his tireless vigour to better purpose like working on opulent estate for a very well-known family while ravishing over his woodworking skills; also accidentally knocking over a paint bucket from a height of twenty-two meters and tripping over few beams while carrying a fragile item which fortunately survived the impact.  
  
As the daylight started creeping off the horizon, giving room to the dark colours of the dawn, Alfred wiped off the surplus sweat from his forehead while resting on the building roof to recover after the draining activity. The middle-aged chunk commended him for his good job; granted, the task was a successful accomplishment for Alfred and with his restored mood he went off, back home again.  
  
Anyway, he didn't get too far away seeing as he almost bumped into a short, minute figure that stumbled back slightly. Said figure had the resemblance of a sonny boy, despite being five years older than Alfred himself. As soon as he laid eyes upon the American, he pounced over him.  
  
“Damn it, Alfred! I've been looking for you all day long, but nobody knew where the heck you were!”  
  
Scolding was a common usance around Alfred Jones, as above-mentioned his keen desire for hazard ventures had entered in the town's folklore. It was a wonder how they hitherto held back into erecting an effigy in his memento; probably waiting for his death in order to give more significance to his worshipped persona.  
  
The blond American looked sheepish as he apologised. “Sorry, Ethan. I was helping Mr. Mitchell building the new estate. What's up anyway?”  
  
The boy, Ethan, stalled for several minutes before settling his mind and hurling out. “You gotta replace me, Al!” thus, embarrassed, shuffling his weight between his knees in a very swing-like motion. “You see, my finacée and I gotta visit her parents' home since her mother's sick. And, here you comes! Do you remember of that holiday I planned last fall?”  
  
An assertion nod from the other spurring him to go on. “Well I no more can go as you can see. So, I thought you could replace me since the flight and hotel are all already paid ...”  
  
A stretched silence followed as Alfred took in the information, encoding and archiving it in his brain while processing it all over again. The response was sudden and unexpected.  
  
“Are you fucking serious, dude!?”  
  
Blenching in surprise, Ethan whispered uncertain a 'Yes?' while wryly eyeing Jones, in fear for another burst, as the latter actually sang happily for the news while patting the other's shoulder – rather forcefully in that – and choking him with a bone-crashing hug.  
  
“I can't believe it, man! I'm really gonna spend the summer across the pond!” he chanted at last, thanking profusely Ethan who delighted in those sincere flatteries. At that, the spectacled blond skipped away on a quick trot towards home, leaving the latter with a hastily 'Gotta tell Matt. See ya later!' before he could tell him the travel's basic details.  
  
After being stood up and compelled on house chores all day, Matthew Williams-Jones, hapless step-brother of the one and sole Alfred F. Jones, was sulking in front of scattered papers of the last science test. Actually those papers were doughy written by naif, unexperienced hands of his 4th grade students. Unlike his brother, Matthew Williams, as he was called among the town, was a successful science teacher at the local elementary school with a full-degree in Biology from the University of Toronto.  
  
Despite their antipodal carriers, there was no grudge from Alfred's side towards his younger brother's choices. He had, in fact, encouraged him to take courses in Toronto for Matthew was tightly bonded with said country seeing as his deceased mother had Canadian origins.  
  
As he mused on the forthcoming supper while correcting major errors, a thunderous slam startled Matthew who knew by heart how boisterous his brother was and could be, making the cohabitation rather strenuous for a normal being like him. In fact, he firmly believed Alfred Jones was anything, but normal which explained the extravagant rituals the other was so attached on, like rambling with inanimate objects, wandering naked around the house – a real astonishment for those rare guests who happened to pop in unannounced – and owning an exotic iguana sauntering around the bedroom.  
  
He heard sharp yelling from downstairs, immediately discarding his work in order to join his brother and his garrulous monologues. “Oh my, Fred, do you need to wreck up the door whenever you even remotely touch it?”  
  
Alfred, on the other hand, dismissed completely the question to announce the blasting news. “I'm going to Europe, Matt! Can you believe it?”  
  
There were countless reactions suitable for the occurrence, so many it was hard to pick one. That's why Matthew Williams decided to use every one of them, all at once. First, disbelief, followed by hints of folly and scepticism, then bafflement met with lucidity and for the grand finale outrage clashed with swirling fury.  
  
“What the heck are you talking about!? Did you bang your head on a rock again?” his enraged tone concealed some titbits of concern in it. Nevertheless, Alfred didn't seem to flinch at the outburst, instead, carrying on his nonsense.  
  
“I mean, Matt, it's not like I'm gonna live for good because you know I wouldn't even dream about it. I'm staying there for a while and I'll be back in a flash!”  
  
“Alfred! Listen to me! What are you talking about?”  
  
At that Jones seized his mouth up, in his eagerness to break the news he had completely forget to ask where and when he was supposed to leave. Matthew noticed his musing stance and took the floor before his brother could get back on track.  
  
“Alfred, do you understand you can't go there? You're jobless and without money to support yourself!”  
  
A brief hurt frown crossed for a millisecond the other's face, but it was soon replaced by a very obstinate disguise. “You don't understand, Matt! This is a hot chance for me. Also, money isn't a problem, I saved up some bucks during the years and I'll need them only if it's a strict necessary as Ethan paid for everything!”  
  
Obstinacy was a common characteristic in the Jones family and Matthew wasn't any less. “Alfred, do you remember what happened last time? You screwed everything up to chase a damn utopian purpose. I'm not gonna let you fuck it up again!”  
  
At that, the mood tensed up increasingly. The two had several discussions on the subject before and it always ended up with a very aggravated breakaway. Alfred would go jogging around the town to cool down whereas Matthew would jump into reading mode in order to alienate his thoughts. Either way, the 'Alfred' topic was taboo in the Jones-Williams household.  
  
Alfred remarked, but he understood the point of view of his brother. Despite being told he was extremely dense, he knew otherwise. After all an intelligent man could act like a stupid – the theory did not apply the other way around though – and he delighted in seeing his peers stare at him wide-eyed after a smarty remark.  
  
“Matt, please, believe me this time. I swear I won't fuck it up again! I promise you.” he plead.  
  
Matthew Williams was known for his patience and tolerance. The latter one being his strong point which granted him a very high homologation as both teacher and individual. It was also the reason of his agreement to Alfred's preposterous decision. There were so few chances that his initiative would really take him somewhere, but when Alfred Jones settled on something it was unfeasible to deter him.  
  
They sealed a treaty under the condition of not provoking and partaking in troublesome and silly instances while abroad, also nothing who could actually rebound on his family and himself – or any being, really - including being send down, damaging public services, harming people, etc. The pact was signed from both parties and preserved in a safe unknown area of the house. A copy of the document was handed to Alfred in order to remind him of his obligations.  
  
The following day Ethan stopped by to acquaint them with important information about the stay. The departure was within five days and the scheduled dwell time was circa a month, provided with a double room in a four-star hotel - catering included - and several bookings for museums and historic areas. (“And you have to attend 'em all, Fred, 'cause they really cost me a fortune.”).  
  
The two siblings listened carefully to Ethan's detailed speech and Matthew made sure his brother wrote down the essential parts to avoid trouble of any sort as stated in the document. As the bargain was settled down, Ethan bid them farewell while wishing a bon voyage to Alfred as he would be gone for a while.  
  
“Oh, right! I almost forgot Al!” called out Ethan. “My girlfriend and I had very conflicting ideas for the final destination. Anyway we decided to spend the summer in a warm country, at last.”  
  
Grinning at Alfred's puzzlement he cleared up. “Have fun in Rome!” 

**Author's Note:**

> I used the term non-graduate to indicate Alfred's situation as US terms are pretty twisted and I had an hard time finding a suitable way to express it. He never enrolled for what most European call "University". I hope I enlightened a bit the meaning.


End file.
